


leave this star-crossed world behind

by anthropologicalhands



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Immortality, Post-Thor: The Dark World, and other adventures, golden apples might not exist in the mcu but there's a hypothetical conversation if they did, no love triangle stuff here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthropologicalhands/pseuds/anthropologicalhands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sif visits Jane with an offering.</p>
            </blockquote>





	leave this star-crossed world behind

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place some time after Thor: TDW, and even whatever happens when Loki’s deception is uncovered. Basically, more adventures have happened than have yet been seen. I originally had this whole headcanon about Sif being queen here as well, but realized I wouldn't be sure how to fit all the information in.

Sif’s arrival in Jane’s kitchen went unheralded.

How she had gotten inside was a mystery to Jane, as the door was locked. Jane had returned, her arms laden with groceries, to find the warrior sitting uncomfortably at the table. Her sword and shield were missing from her person. Jane looked around. Ah. They were in the umbrella stand.

“Hi, Sif. What are you here for?”

As far as she knew, Thor hadn’t mentioned that Sif would be dropping by for a visit. It was hardly the sort of thing he would forget, especially when he was away in New York for the day on a favor to Tony, and would not be back until dinner. Jane made some mental adjustments about what pots she would be using for the spaghetti, and counted herself lucky to have had the foresight to pick up a couple extra packages. Thor wasn’t too difficult to feed, most days, but extra Asgardians always put a strain on their pantry and it was her turn to cook.

“I wished to see you.” Sif smiled, but it was not the easy tilt of the lips Jane was familiar with. There was tension in her frame—her visible arm, resting on the table, was clutched in a fist so tight the veins protruded. “I have something important to discuss with you.”

“Did something happen?”

“I do not come to report misfortune.” There again was that strained smile. “It is more of a…gift.”

“I see.” 

The last time Sif presented her with a gift; it was a ceremonial sword, too light for combat but with a wicked edge, its scabbard marked by an intricate rendering of Yggdrasil and all its realms. At the time, Sif had been giddy like a child, accepting Jane’s profuse thanks by drawing her own sword and proposing a duel.

There was nothing of that puckishness about her now.

Jane sorted out the contents of her bags, watching Sif.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It is something you should have been given a long time ago.”

“Really? What is it? Or do you want me to guess?” Her things put away, Jane stepped around the counter and leaned against it.

Sif didn’t even grant her a weak smile. Instead, she shifted, raising her arm to reveal a purse dangling from woven cords. She held it out to Jane. 

Jane took the purse, holding its solid contents firmly in her palm. The material was smooth as silk, and heavy with its gift. She loosened the drawstring, to peer inside. She stared. Let the bag slide open, so the gift was visible.

It was an apple, shining gold in the afternoon light.

“What is it?” she asked, though she thought she already knew. She had seen such apples before on the illuminated pages of old books, the kind that she read in the interim between Thor’s disappearance and the Battle of Manhattan. They were fresh in her mind—having dug them out again once Thor returned to Earth.

“One of Idunn’s golden apples,” said Sif. “Picked from her orchard, with her permission.”

Jane could feel Sif’s eyes on her. She did not look up, her eyes on the fruit in her hands. No bruises, no wrinkle, not a single gash in the skin—completely flawless. 

“I read about these,” said Jane, turning the apple over. “While Thor was gone, I-I thought there might be some clue in the myths about how to get there.”

“What did you learn?”

“Nothing that helped me. Just that they are the source of the gods’ youth and immortality,” Jane cleared her throat, flushing slightly. “I thought it was an exaggeration. Not, um, literal golden apples.”

“Only the skin is golden,” said Sif. She seemed to relax, leaning against the frame of the chair. “The flesh is as crisp and sweet as any fruit. They keep us strong. When we stop eating them, we age, and we die.”

“How?” pressed Jane, seating herself at the kitchen table, the chair adjacent to Sif’s. “I never really thought about immortality from food, how that would work? Does it stimulate a constant state of regeneration? How often do you have to eat them—”

“I am no healer, Jane. I cannot tell you what you wish to know,” said Sif, a suspicious twitch at the corner of her mouth suggesting a hidden smile. “All of Asgard partakes in these apples, and their properties are coveted throughout all the realms.”

Jane looked down at the apple. “I take it you didn’t give it to me to pass it on to Thor, then.”

“Of course not.” Sif shifted in her seat, examining a wrapping on her forearm. “For you.” 

“For me?” Jane felt her voice squeak, and resented it. “Why?”

“You are worthy of them,” said Sif, as though it was obvious. “It is a gross oversight that Thor will not discuss the matter with you. I grow tired of it.”

“We’ve talked about immortality,” objected Jane. “Theoretically.” 

“So Thor has told me. Still, he has been remiss by not offering the apples to you. You must understand, the apples are not immortality, Jane. The apples extend our youth, but we can and will die. What glory is there in war without Valhalla waiting at the end?”

“But what does that mean for me?” asked Jane, a little sharply, clutching the apple tightly in both hands. “Sif, I’m not a warrior. I won’t die on a battlefield. There is no way to turn back if I choose to eat this. What if five thousand years is too much to handle? What if I figure it out too late?”

“You would never be without friends in Asgard.” There was a gentleness in Sif’s tone that she did not expect. 

Jane laughed, a little hysterically.

“I would hope not. Five thousand years, I hope I could make friends.” All of her fears were being dragged out of her. “Asgard isn’t the problem. What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Some of her hair fell into her eyes. She brushed it back. “I know the universe has everything to offer. To have all that time, especially with Thor, and you…it would be _incredible_. You can’t imagine how tempting it is.” 

“But I would have to eat them now, while everyone I know grows old around me. And they’d see that I wasn’t. They would ask why, and I don’t have a reason to give to them.”

Sif gave an incredulous bark of laughter. “You have done great services for Asgard. The apples are our gratitude. Jane, I do not offer merely on _Thor’s_ behalf.”

“No one would offer at all if it wouldn’t make him happy.” 

Sif blinked, and shifted back in her seat. A chilly silence stretched out between them.

Jane grimaced, and reached out a hand across the table towards Sif. “I’m sorry. That was mean of me.”

Sif allowed her hand to be taken, with a brief clasping of wrists, and released again. She let loose a gusty sigh.

“You are not wrong. Your deeds are renowned among the Aesir certainly, I do not lie in that respect, but they know you first as Thor’s lover.” She put up her elbow on the table and her hand to her forehead, bracing there. “I have little talent in debate, Jane, not like you or Thor. You must take my words for what they are: bald and true. You are a brilliant woman, Jane Foster. Even if you and Thor had grown apart in the interim, I would have presented the apples to you without hesitation. But you have not. So I do not understand your reluctance to decide about the apples or Thor’s unusual silence on the matter.”

“He’s being kind. He knows I think about it, but now is not the time.”

“Why not?”

Jane shrugged helplessly. “I’m still making my mind up on what to say.”

“Hmph. You do not give that impression.” There was more affection than bite in her response. A pause. Then, softly: “You do not have to answer now, Jane. It is not my wish to force your hand when you do not wish it. I am but a messenger.” 

She rose from the table, adjusting her gauntlets. “And as a messenger, I am afraid I dawdle when I shouldn’t. I must be off.”

Jane sprang up as well, chair left rocking on its hind legs. “Are you sure? You can stay for dinner—it really wouldn’t be any trouble. Thor should be back soon—”

Sif stepped close to Jane and laid her hands on her shoulders. Her gaze was intent.

“Your offer is kind, but I have my own duties to attend to. Just let me make myself clear. I think you are brave and clever. You see patterns in the stars where I only see their light. Because of you, Midgard is no longer a ward of Asgard but its ally. I will always be happy to call you sister, whatever you decide.”

Sif hesitated only a moment before pulling Jane into a tight embrace. 

Jane wrapped her arms around Sif as well, going up on her toes, hugging back as hard as she could so that Sif would feel her gratitude, despite all of her babbling.

“It’s not that I don’t want the apple,” she murmured. “I just start thinking of all the possible ways this could turn out, and some of them are very bad. I don’t think I would regret it, personally, but it’s frightening.”

Sif released her with a clap to her shoulder. “I understand. It is not a decision to make lightly.”

Jane followed Sif to the doorway and watched the warrior rearm herself. Her shield strapped to her back, she bent down and hefted her glaive out of the umbrella stand, careful not to disturb the actual umbrellas.

“Jane, I follow a warrior’s creed. Its framework is simple. To achieve victory through honorable combat is all that I desire. You are not a warrior at heart, Jane, but” She smiled at Jane. “To me, you have won. Jane, enjoy the fruit of your labor.”

“That’s terrible,” said Jane, fighting a smile. “But I’ll try.”

“I am glad to hear it.” At the open door, she hesitated, her free hand on the knob. “Jane, if you continue to feel distress over the apple, do not fear calling out for me. Heimdell will hear.”

Jane nodded. “I will.”

“And don’t worry about Thor,” she added. “The man is ridiculous with love for you. He would never push you, and he might have more satisfactory answers for you than I would.”

“I know.”

Sif smiled, and walked away. Jane watched until there was a flash of rainbow light, and repressed the urge to dig up one of her portable scanners to register readings of radiation.  
She closed the door to the apartment and locked it. She walked across the open room to the kitchen table to where the apple sat, glittering in the late afternoon rays.

Jane wondered what would happen, if she took a bite. Would she feel the first stirrings of invulnerability? What if it didn’t take just a bite, what if it took the whole apple? When would she notice she had stopped aging? Would the fine signs of aging, day by day, disappear? Or would only the new ones be prevented from creasing her face, would her body stay elastic and not loosen?

She thought of Thor, of his big hands and his crinkled smile. She pressed her hands over her belly, and considered the child that only existed as a thought, a fragile hope nursed by the both of them. Thor said it was possible; that Asgardians had, in the past, had children with mortals. The specifics of their growth and lifespan, however, were beyond his expertise. And presently, no half-mortals roamed the streets of Asgard.

She picked up the apple.

One day, she might choose to accept Sif's gift.

But not, perhaps, right now.

She would give this one to Thor. After the pasta, when they are finally alone. 

It might be time to talk after all.


End file.
